


Frost Guardian

by Rosage



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marching through Daein wears on Crimea's newest general. Mist uses snow to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frost Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> Written in July of 2012. Thanks to quasigeek for the beta.

Ice invaded Mist’s lungs when she coughed.  Her knees felt glued to the frozen ground.  Struggling to pry her numb fingers off the stake, she rearranged her grip on it.  She refused to let Daein’s bitter welcome chase her off.  

“Hey,” someone behind her said.  “Why don’t you leave this to us?  A kid like you shouldn’t be losing thumbs.”  

Mist looked at the soldier who’d spoken.  A face she didn’t know sat behind the helmet.  She only spared it a glance before returning to work. 

“I want to help,” she said.  “And I know how to use a hammer.  I _am_ a mercenary.” 

“Suit yourself,” he muttered.  When he said nothing else, Mist continued to pound.  

Once the camp was set up, Mist rubbed her sore knees and hobbled to the mess tent.  Since their group had expanded into an army, she’d had to start cooking for a crowd.  She missed knowing the tastes of each person, even though she knew the tired soldiers just wanted to fill their stomachs.  After dinner was finished and she’d roamed the camp to make sure no loners went unfed, Mist slipped away to climb a nearby hill. 

Throwing herself into the snow, she stretched her aching limbs and flailed with wild abandon.  Delight took her as she lost herself in the motion.  Glimmering powder swirled in the air before falling against her.  She lay in the blankets and breathed.  

Her mind’s numbness wore off, leaving only her shivering body and a pile of chores.  Mist pulled herself away from her sanctuary and scurried back to the barracks, heading to the mess tent in case the crew hadn’t finished cleaning.  Seeing they hadn’t, she joined them.  She winced at the sounds of armor clinking outside and clanged a pot against a basin to drown them out. 

In the morning, the army packed up and set out.  They marched through biting winds until the sun fell.  Once again, Mist helped set up before rushing off to the hills.  

The next day, Mist noticed Ike watching her when she left.  By the time she got back, he was busy, and before she could talk to him, she collapsed into sleep. 

When she returned one evening, she found him stretching as he waited at the edge of camp.  Mist smiled.  Her brother had never known how to sit still.  

He inclined his head in greeting when she approached.  “I don’t get how you can roll around in something so cold,” he said, nodding at her soaked clothes. 

A memory came to her.  Younger and drenched, Ike had stared at his feet while their father scolded him for ruining his clothes.  She shook the image off and grinned.  “It used to be cold, but I warmed it up!” 

Ike blinked.  “When you warm up snow it melts.” 

“You spend too much time with Soren.” 

Ike opened his mouth, closed it, and shrugged.  They teased each other for a minute or two before he left to check their supplies. 

xxxxxxx 

Ike paced aimlessly in his tent, muttering at the frozen ground.  He’d never been the type to complain, even when he was a boy covered in mud rather than a general covered in bloodstains, but Mist had known he was stressed before she walked in on this lapse.  

In his brooding, he hadn’t seemed to notice her.  She spoke gently so as not to startle him.  

“You know, brother, you’ll burn a hole in the ground if you keep pacing like that.” 

Ike whirled around and blinked.  The blank look he gave her was the same one he’d been giving the report in his hands when she entered.  

“What I’d like to do is burn a hole in all this snow,” he said.  “It slows the company down enough, but with an army it’s even worse.  Horses can’t walk through this.  The pegasus knights can’t fly in this snowfall, and without them as scouts, I have no idea if the land ahead is passable.  Not only that, but the funds the apostle gave us vanished when we bought our winter gear.  Everyone’s freezing, and morale is falling.”  

Mist didn’t pay attention to the tirade.  She hadn’t heard much of his mutterings, but she knew they hadn’t really been about snow or supplies.  She prodded his shoulder, struck by the fact that she had to stand on her toes.  “If you keep grumbling like that, you’re going to kill everyone’s morale yourself.” 

Ike’s eyes slowly focused until he finally seemed to see her.  The wrinkles in his brow smoothed.  “You’re right.  Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  You look exhausted.  I think dinner’s ready, you should—” 

Ike was already halfway out the tent.  Mist grinned.  Dinner was one invitation he never needed twice. 

xxxxxxx 

Sore from a round of training, Mist flopped into the snow.  Even small movements strained her muscles, but she swung her arms all the same.  Now more than ever, she needed the release.  Ike had withdrawn since the battle with the crows, seeming too distracted to pay attention to her when they talked, and the stolen medallion had only made it worst.  Unable to get him to tell her what was wrong, Mist could do nothing but mend his shirts.  

Reaching for her medallion, Mist grabbed only a handful of fabric.  She swallowed and went back to flapping her arms. 

She shook powder from her hair as she stood and surveyed her work.  Angels laced the hillside.  She stepped carefully to avoid crushing them. 

She looked down the hill.  The hustle and bustle of the campsite always made her feel small, but from this vantage point, it looked like nothing but a speck on a broad landscape.  Mist’s heart clenched at the sight.  A white blanket spread out in front of the camp, while a mess of grey and brown dirtied the snow behind it.  She turned to her angels.  They were sloppy, but at least they were clean. 

Mist imagined her angels peeling up to form twirling figures.  They’d look like the herons, she decided.  They’d sing like Reyson and Leanne, and the ruined land would grow vibrant with lush greenery. 

Evening draped shadows over the snow.  Dinner duty was over, but there was always work to do in the healer’s tent.  Looking at the camp, Mist again reached for her medallion.  Her stomach dropped along with her hand. 

Biting her lip, she laid down in one of her angels and closed her eyes.  Her teeth chattered.  She remembered how Titania used to tuck her into bed.  She didn’t sing the lullaby Mist’s mom had, but she told Mist stories and answered her questions.  One winter, before Mist knew about the seasons, she’d fretted about the dead plants.  _Will there be any left by spring?_ she’d asked.  Stroking her hair, Titania told her that Ashera hid the seeds safely in the ground.  _That’s why she brings the snow down,_ Titania had said.  _So the seeds can be tucked into bed._ She’d pulled the sheets over Mist’s giggling face. 

Chill seeped through her shirt, but the memory kept Mist warm.  She wrapped her arms around herself and wished she could pull winter’s blankets over her. 

xxxxxxx 

Reality smacked Mist as she stepped into camp.  Gruff voices rose over the clanks of metal.  Bodies swarmed around her, making her shrink into herself.  A soldier walked by carrying a lance with a stained tip.  Mist looked down at her feet when he waved.     

Quickening her pace, she slipped on the slush and bumped her head on someone’s side.  Strong arms caught her.  Shaken, Mist looked up at Ike.  His face, usually so comforting, made her heart hurt.  His jaw was square enough to be a stranger’s, and his eyes looked like shadowy stones.  His mouth was set in a firm line.  

It was a hard face to smile at, but she tried.  “Sorry,” she said, righting herself.  “And thanks.”  He pulled his hands away and grunted.  It sounded familiar and not at the same time. 

“You should pay more attention.  It’s dangerous to trip with all this weaponry around,” he said. 

“I know,” Mist said.  “You don’t need to remind me.”  

She thought he’d walk right past her to continue whatever work he’d been doing, but he stopped to consider her, twisting the corner of his mouth the way he did when he was thinking.  “Hey, you’ve been leaving camp a lot.” 

“Yeah. I get depressed if I stay around here too long.”  

“I can understand that, but I’d rather you stay here.  I can’t keep an eye on you if you run off.” 

Mist frowned.  “I can take care of myself.  And I don’t go far or stay too long.” 

“I know that, but…”  For a moment, Ike’s eyes lost their new hardness, glazing over like he was watching some far-away scene.  He shook his head.  “If I’m to run an organized effort here, I can’t be having you sneaking away.  Stay here where I can keep an eye on you.  That’s an order.” 

Mist’s argument caught in her throat.  Respect stirred in her.  It struck her how odd it felt. 

Ike softened.  “Mist, I know being here is hard, but I have to protect you.  That’s my most important job.  It’s the last one he gave me.”  

Touched, Mist relaxed.  Ike might have stopped being so bone-headed, but he was still her brother.  He didn’t belong in this army any more than she did, even if he’d grown into his armor.  “I know, Ike.  I’ll stay here from now on.”  

“Good.”  His firm nod stirred nostalgia in Mist.  Spotting the crinkles around his eyes, she finally made sense of it. 

“You know, you look just like dad,” she said.  “I mean, not like his face or anything—well, I guess that, too, but that’s not…” 

Ike smiled wryly.  “I get that a lot.” 

He left to check the convoy.  Mist stepped back into the crowds, shrinking again as they pressed around her.  Glancing behind her, she spotted a broad pair of shoulders under a mess of blue hair.  The sight soothed her like the walls of a fort protecting her, as if a pair of arms might drop their axe to give her a rare hug. 

xxxxxxx 

Mist clutched a wooden spoon to her chest as she scurried to the mess tent.   Columns of unfamiliar tents closed in around her, and despite what Ike told her about paying attention, she couldn’t help but keep her head down.  The slush beneath her feet was as grey as coal.  She sidestepped the few bits of clean snow.  

Finding an undisturbed patch of snow, she bent down and pressed a finger to it.  The urge to shape it into a ball grabbed her, but when she looked for someone to throw it at, she only saw strangers.  She abandoned the idea and followed the scent of Oscar’s cooking. 

Oscar was seasoning a stew when she entered the mess tent.  Put at ease by his pleasant greeting and witty remarks, Mist remembered their last snowball fight.  Boyd had started that one by attacking an unaware Rolf.  When Oscar came by to tell Boyd to leave Rolf alone, Boyd had let his guard down and gotten smacked with the snowball Oscar hid behind his back. 

Biting back a giggle, Mist rang the dinner bell.  She winced at the harsh sound.  The chime they’d used at the fort had been pretty, like birdsong. 

She ladled portions of stew and watched as people filed in.  Each one she knew was followed by two she didn’t.  Rhys walked in beside a fierce looking laguz with a beak-like nose, who he was chattering to while making wild gestures.  It cheered Mist to see him so lively; despite his positive attitude, she knew his sickness got him down.  Then again, it hadn’t been enough to stop him from joining in on last year’s snowball fight.  After promising Titania he’d stay indoors, Rhys had snuck past a giggling Rolf with a wink and a finger over his lips.  In the end Titania let it slide; she was busy assaulting Ike and Boyd with snowballs, even though she’d started out on the sidelines.  

It didn’t take long for Ike to enter the mess tent.  Soren might have escaped Mist’s notice had she not expected to see him keep step with Ike’s shadow.  Sometimes in their snow games, Ike would disappear into the fort before dragging out the protesting staff officer by the wrist.  Mist had been glad to see him not holed up inside.  

The sight of Shinon reminded Mist that his snowballs always seemed to hit the same red cape.  Gatrie stepped in after him, yanking at Shinon’s sleeve while the archer shrugged him off.  Having them both back in the group reassured her that her family would stick together.  She closed her eyes and remembered huddling around the campfire, boasting and laughing.  Gatrie’s laughs had been the loudest. 

When she’d ladled the last serving, Mist stepped back to survey the crowd.  Something was nagging at her.  They’d dished out all the portions, but it seemed like one person hadn’t entered and ignited her nostalgia.  

With a heavy heart, Mist realized what had left the gap.  She reached for the medallion.  Her hand dropped.  Swallowing, she summoned the final memory on her own. 

When the games started, her father would be nowhere in sight.  She’d assume he was working, but suddenly he’d appear near the fort, observing the scene like a watch guard.  Nobody aimed at him—or even acknowledged he was there—until, without warning, a giant snowball smacked Ike.  

_You call that keeping your guard up, boy?_

Everyone whirled around.  A smirk stood on Greil’s face.  Then, as if a dam broke, he hurled a barrage of snow.  

He didn’t go easy on anyone, even Mist.  Between his perfect aim and a body built like a castle, the rest of the company had to team up on him.  Only Shinon still chucked the occasional snowball at Ike. 

It struck Mist that those were the only times her father really _played_ with his children.  Not just her and Ike, but all of them. 

She broke out of her reverie.  Carrying the empty pot to the wash station, she glanced back at the crowd.  Her chest tightened.  Other than Soren, she didn’t recognize anybody sitting with Ike.  She searched for her family, spotting their dots of color spaced out among the rows of armor.  For a moment, she wished for nothing more than to bring them together and huddle in blankets until the sun rose.      

Mist turned away and scrubbed the pot.  With the worries on everyone’s minds, she figured they wouldn’t remember the snowballs.  That was all right.  Nothing called a fight sounded fun anymore. 

xxxxxxx 

Every time Mist thought her brother’s stress couldn’t get any worse, he proved her wrong.  Several times she saw him storm out of a tent and brush past without noticing her.  Each time she fought down her hurt, telling herself he had bigger things to worry about before going to help Rhys in the medical tent. 

Once, she found him training alone.  She called out greetings until her throat was sore, but he didn’t look at her once, lunging and slashing his sword with a vigor that made her back away. 

He spent hours in war meetings.  The bags under his eyes grew darker.  She carried supplies, washed her family’s clothes, and chopped vegetables.  At night she lay awake, humming a song and missing the weight of a stone against her chest.  

When Ike wasn’t fighting, he was making orders and planning strategies.  Mist sparred with Titania and stitched torn coats.  She lost herself in the rhythms, but as the pressure in her chest built she knew she couldn’t go on like this forever. 

xxxxxxx 

Mist stopped running for the first time that evening.  Panting, she clenched her hands on her knees.  She’d lost track of how long she’d been trying to gather ingredients.  With supplies being rationed, they couldn’t scrape together a full meal for everyone.  Mist tried to calculate how much everyone could have, then gave up.  Math was Soren’s job, not hers. 

Scowling at the ground, she ran into someone.  The impact knocked her off her feet.  

“Ouch!  That—Oh!  Ike!  I’m sorry.” 

She took the hand he offered and looked up into his face.  It was more frayed than usual, tightly drawn and cast with storm clouds.  Mist’s throat tightened as she searched the timeworn general in front of her for some trace of the boy she’d chased around the lake.  

“Brother,” Mist said, “Ike, are you all right?” 

He was looking through her again as if there was nothing there besides the slush.  He grunted.  “My soldiers wasted so much time this morning that we only marched halfway to today’s goal, Soren just told me that ruins his entire week of plans, nobody has enough winter gear, and I can’t stand this blasted _snow._ ”  Closing his eyes, he shook his head.  “So what do you think?”   

Mist bit her lip.  A list of exactly what she thought barraged her.  The soldiers who wouldn’t even get a full meal after exhausting themselves with marching and the brothers and sisters of the soldiers Ike cut down had worse problems than Soren’s plans or Ike’s _snow_.  It wasn’t fair of her—she knew it wasn’t his fault—but nothing was fair anymore and Ike wouldn’t stop giving her that glazed look like there was something more important than— 

“I think you’re a _jerk,_ ” she shouted. 

Ike eyes snapped open, widening enough to recall his boyish face.  His mouth shaped an apology he didn’t speak.  Mist knew why.  Ike never said anything he didn’t mean.  She told herself he’d say it later, when he’d eaten and gotten a chance to rest. 

Mist’s chest closed in on her as Ike stared.  She wanted him to argue, at least, to bicker with her like they used to, but with a shake of his head, he only whispered a low, “I can’t deal with this right now” before turning to leave. 

A snowball hit his back.  He froze. 

Mist stared at her outstretched arm while Ike looked blankly over his shoulder.  The silence stretched until she wondered if he was mad.  Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose before hunching and turning away.  

Mist had never felt so stupid.  She was just a kid after all, no matter how hard she worked.  Feeling tears well up, she squeezed her eyes shut to trap them in. 

A snowball hit her.  Her eyes sprung open and saw a streak of dirty slush drip down her arm.  Blinking, she looked up at Ike. 

He smirked.  “I thought I told you to pay attention.”  

The dam broke.  They scooped up handfuls at the same time, but Ike managed to hit her first, causing her to drop the slush.  She grabbed more and flung it, continuing the motion as snow smacked her and soaked through her shirt.  Shivering, she swung with wild abandon.  Snow hit her arm, his stomach, the tents and barrels nearby, but neither of them paid any attention.  Adrenaline coursed through Mist.  Thoughts abandoned her.  She threw until snow and sheer momentum carried her to the ground. 

She panted and laughed.  She took the hand Ike offered her and held it, clinging while he patiently waited for her to pull herself up.  Snow stuck in his eyebrows and on his nose.  Mist laughed harder. 

“See?” she said, “It’s cold, but being covered in it’s not so bad!” 

Ike shook his head.  “You’re a mess.” 

“You too.  Hey, wanna make a snow angel?”  She yanked on his hand.  He didn’t budge. 

“Not a chance.” 

Mist stood.  Looking at Ike’s lopsided grin, Mist felt contentment wash over her.  He was still the teen who’d strapped his armor on wrong before running to rescue her from bandits, overgrown limbs and all. 

Snow fell out of his hair when he ran his fingers through it.  “This is the first year it was just us, huh?” 

“What?”  
  
“Our snowball fights.  Don’t tell me you forgot.” 

“Of course not, but I kinda thought you had,” Mist admitted. 

He snorted.  “How could I forget a thing like that?  Everyone went crazy those days.  Besides, I’d never forget how you cried when I beat you.” 

“Hey!”  Mist smacked his arm.  His grin widened.  

She shivered.  Her clothes were soaked through, but the sun’s rays warmed her.  Lifting her face to soak up them up, she closed her eyes and remembered something she’d said in Gallia. 

_The sunlight was so warm.  I mean, it’s always warm, but…for some reason, it made me want to cry._

She didn’t need the sun to warm her as she recalled his response. 

_We will carry on together._

When she opened her eyes, she saw her brother’s face.  It was too serious, set under a low brow and over tight shoulders, but that was just Ike.  _You need to chill out,_ Boyd always said.  Mist smiled. 

“Hey,” she said.  “Isn’t it neat that we’re alive?” 

Ike glanced up at the sky.  “Yeah,” he said.  “It is.”  He looked back down at her.  “Hey, I have to talk to Tanith about her pegasus knights.  You should go make snow angels.” 

Mist lit up before realization stole her smile.  “Oh…but I have to go make dinner.” 

“Never mind.  I’ll put Oscar in charge.  I need his cooking anyway.” 

“All right.  Ike, there isn’t much food—” 

“I’ll let him know.  I’m sure he’ll figure something out.  Go make snow angels.  That’s an order.” 

Mist grinned and thanked him before sprinting away.  After scrambling up the nearest hill, she covered it with guardians, enough to watch over an entire army and more.  She thought about families huddled around fires, friends tangled in wrestling matches, and lullabies sung in a voice she barely remembered.  As darkness fell, she made one last angel.  Lying in its wings, she hummed a song as if it could bring the angel to life.  For a brief moment, it did.  Frosted feathers cradled her. 

“Watch over Ike for me,” she whispered, before her mother’s arms retreated into the earth.  Humming, Mist stood and started down the hill to join her family for dinner. 


End file.
